Hold On
by M. D. Jensen
Summary: I got a request for a nthp fic. Not my ship, but I'm always up for a challenge so I did my best. Tonks goes to collect Harry from the Dursleys and... yeah. Tell me how I did, please!


Disclaimer: not mine. Title is from the Good Charlotte song 'Hold On', which I can no longer quote here. Sigh.

Unnecessarily long AN: okay, well, let's start off with one major announcment: I am not a Harry/Tonks shipper in the slightest. For me, it's Tonks/Lupin all the way (or James/Lily/Remus triangles- I love them too). but I got a request from Harry Potter Fan who wanted a Tonks/Harry and figured, why not, I need the practice. So, please tell me how I did, for I am trying my best, even if I don't agree with it (gee, don't I sound noble? Lol!)

Additional note: in all my other fics, Tonks is really 29 and uses her powers to appear in her early twenties. Thusly, it's not weird to pair her with Lupin, who is probably about 35 or 36. (And may I remind you that this is not against canon rules; if the original Order started when Remus was 18 or 19, Tonks would have still been 13 or 14, and thusly would have been too young. So poo!) anyway, this does not agree with my other fics; here, Tonks is 20 or 21.

Hold On

The sun was rapidly fading and Tonks could see her shadow cast longer and longer against the squares of grass that were the lawns of Picket Drive. It was an August sunset somehow dropped into early July; the usual pinks and oranges were replaced by periwinkle blue and shock streaks of blood red.

Tonks sighed and scuffed her boot against the sidewalk, consequentially losing her balance and grabbing onto a mailbox for support until she straightened herself again. Resigned wholly to her clumsy nature, normally (providing there were no resulting injuries of herself or others) she tried to laugh at herself in situations like these, but now she wasn't in a very good mood. Hell, she was in a terrible mood.

It was July 7 and Dumbledore had at last okayed Harry's retrieval (rescuce, she had called it) from the Dursley's. But, as Dumbledore was now attempting to be on good terms with them, he had forbid the Order to trick the family out of the house and escape with Harry in their absence. Thusly, the plan was set quite simply: Apparate into Mrs. Figgs' house, go to Harry's from there, collect him and Floo back from Mrs. Figgs' again.

But it really wasn't simple at all, so why oh why hadn't she kept her stupid mouth shut?

Everyone was anxious for Harry's return to the Order, Tonks included, but none of them particularly wanted to face the… events of the previous month, least of all face them with Harry. Lupin had originally been set up for the mission, but the full moon made it impossible, and the decision was unanimous that Harry should be gotten as soon as possible. Even waiting two days for Lupin to recover was not an option, as far as everyone was concerned. So, foolishly, Tonks had volunteered with a smile.

A smile that had long since faded into full-out scowl. No one knew what condition Harry was in; two weeks had gone by since he returned to the Dursleys' and he had replied to none of their letters, even though the post-owls assured them that the letters had been received. Of course they knew he needed to be left alone for a while, but they all also knew that eventually, he would have to learn to cope.

But even knowing that, Tonks was not looking forward to what came next.

First making sure that her appearance was normal and sufficiently Muggle (it was- brown hair, blue eyes and a respectable jumper in leu of her normal t-shirts or robes), Tonks approached the door of Number Four and knocked.

At first, Tonks thought she hadn't been heard. Her arrival had been announced a few days ago, via a letter (delivered Muggle post) from Dumbledore, but then again, they hadn't expected that to help much. Muggle as she looked, Tonks was still a witch and thusly unwelcome in the Dursleys' house. But in a minute or two (in which she hadn't thought it wise to knock again), a woman with a thin face and long nose opened the door. Tonks recognized her from Dumbledore's description as Petunia Dursley, but she hadn't pictured her looking so pale or drawn…

"I'm Nymphadora Tonks," Tonks said immediately, extending her hand, which was not acknowledged in the slightest. "I'm here to pick up Harry," she stressed, letting her arm fall to her side.

"You're here for Harry," A thick-necked man said, suddenly appearing from where Tonks guessed the kitchen was. the expression on his face was decidedly odd; he looked infuriated but at the same time scared witless. Tonks didn't bother extending her hand, just shrunk back and tried to look as nonthreatening as possible (strange, because she had never pictured herself as threatening at all).

"Wot- uh, yes, good night, Mr. Dursley, I am here for Harry, yeah."

Instead of purpling at the mention of his nephew, like Tonks had been warned he might, the man instead looked slightly relieved. "Finally. He's been a right irritation, moping about and all- acting like someone _died_ or something…"

"Someone did die." Tonks replied automatically, her tone flat. "His godfather, Sirius Black."

Vernon had the courtesy to close his mouth tightly, but Harry's aunt Petunia reacted somewhat more profoundly than Tonks could have predicted. All color escaped her face, and her eyes bludged slightly. Had her lips been any less thin, it would have also been evident that they were pursed tightly.

"Sirius…" she said quietly, as if not hearing her own voice. "Tall, black hair, dark eyes…"

"That was him," Tonks confirmed, liking the situation less than ever.

"Yes," Petunia said in the same toneless voice as Vernon stared at her, but then she seemed to right herself and her color gradually returned. "Yes, well, Ha- the boy is in his room."

"I'll not have one of their kind wandering loose in my house," Vernon said quietly, apparently recovered from the fact that someone had, indeed, died.

Petunia nodded slowly, then beckoned for Tonks to follow her and hurried up the steps. Tonks followed, determined not to trip and crack any of the Dursleys' precious knickknacks that seemed to surround her from all angels, even on the stairs. At least ot momentarily took her mind off Harry.

"Second door on your left," Petunia said and Tonks looked up. Away from her husband, the woman seemed to have paled again.

"Uh… thanks," Tonks replied, moving towards the door.

The light was off, but Tonks could plainly see the emptiness of the room. Unlike she had seen last year around this time, the room was barren of anything but a wall clock and a stack of neatly arranged school books next to a chest. No clothes littered the floor like before, and it was not a wreck like she had expected. The entire room was spotless, not a sock out of place, and the bedclothes were perfectly arranged, even though Harry was still in bed, sitting up with his head buried in a textbook.

Tonks blinked and looked again. In the last two weeks, Tonks guessed that Harry had lost at least ten pounds. His cheeks shone in sharp relief under pale, sallowed skin and his eyes… his eyes had the same hollowed, sunken look that Sirius's had had three years ago when they stared up at her from every newspaper in wizarding London.

Tonks swallowed. "Wotcher, Harry."

He looked up, and his eyes focused slightly. "Tonks," he said very quietly.

Tonks shifted her weight between her feet. "Got Dumbledore's owl, did you? I was supposed to come pick you up today."

Harry nodded and gestured to the only item besides the lamp on his night-stand; it was a parchment, crossed with familiar loopy handwriting.

"Right," Tonks said, trying to be cheerful. "Well, are you all packed? We can leave for Mrs. Figgs as soon as it's dark; Dumbledore doesn't want to take any chances carting around your trunk and broomstick in the middle of the night." There was a soft _hoot_ from the corner of the room; Hedwig at least looked as though she had been cared for well. "And Hedwig, of course," Tonks finished hastily, and the owl seemed placated.

"I'm packed," Harry said dully. He seemed determined to make conversation as difficult as possible, although in all fairness, Tonks knew it wasn't intentional.

"Right, well… good…" she fumbled. "We can go in about two hours. I'd try to Appaparate your stuff earlier so we could go now, but I might splinch it if it's too heavy… and Dumbledore said not to use your cape just in case…" She was rambling, stalling, and she knew it.

Harry acknowledged her with a noise in the back of his throat.

Tonks sighed, came into the room entirely, and closed the door behind her. Under normal circumstances, she would have gone to sit next to Harry on the bed or something like that, but now she just stood. "Everyone's been very worried about you," she said at last in the gentlest voice she could manage.

Harry shrugged, but would not meet her eyes.

Tonks decided to press her luck and continue. "I won't ask if you're okay," she said softly. "'Cause I know you're not. But everyone is really concerned. Ron and Hermione talk about you all the time; they wanted to come along but Dumbledore nixed it. And Mrs. Weasley was no help; she's been asking since the day you left when we'd come get you."

At this, Harry smiled slightly, so Tonks continued. "Remus- uh, Professor Lupin to you, I guess- he really wanted to come tonight too, but… he's a little preoccupied at the moment. I don't think your aunt and uncle would really appreciate his present state, as it were." Harry's face still looked haunted, but the smile was definitely present now. Maybe, Tonks thought, he really did want the company. He must have been so lonely the past few weeks.

"Everyone is really looking forward to you coming home." She was talking at normal pace now. "You should have seen their faces when we decided on today; it was the first time I'd seen Remus smile since…" Tonks broke off very suddenly, and slapped her hand over her mouth. Harry's face had closed again; his green eyes were unfocused and vacant.

"God… open mouth, insert foot," Tonks said quietly. "Harry, I didn't mean to say it like that; I am so sorry…"

"It's alright," Harry assured her in the dullest tones she had ever heard coming from a boy his age. 'It', whatever 'it' referred to, was most decidedly _not_ alright.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tonks said automatically, then shrunk back again. What a stupid thing to say, her mind screamed.

Harry's eyes seemed vaguely hurt, but he still lifted his eyebrows at her so that they disappeared into the curtain of his bangs. "Counseling- starting a new career, are we, Tonks?"

His tone was cold. It hit her that, while she had certainly seen him being/ trying to be sarcastic before, it had never seemed so… deliberate. A year ago, even in the state he was in then, he never spoke with bad intentions. Now everything out of his mouth seemed like an accusation.

"I'm sorry," Tonks told him, very sincerely. "It was a dumb thing to say." After all, as her Aunt Narcissa had always told her, _First, try sarcasm, intimidation, and white lies. Then, when it still doesn't work, try honesty._ But she had said that when Tonks was fairly sure she was trollied and oblivious to her own voice or meanings. And besides, where had that gotten her? Barely 40 and already practically a widow. So Tonks had decided to skip intimidation and lying and go straight to the naked truth. "It was a very dumb thing to say, but you're not making this very easy, Harry."

And that, too, may have been a dumb thing to say, but it was honest. And it did evoke a reaction from Harry, even if it wasn't a happy one. He looked up at Tonks, who expected the shadows under his eyes to age him somehow. Instead, Harry looked very lost and very, very young. "Sorry, Tonks," he said very quietly hanging his head. Tonks was reminded vaguely of a small child who had just been harshly reprimanded, and suddenly felt guilty.

"Don't be. It's not your fault; of course it's not your fault. I don't know what I expected. I can leave"- empty threat; she had nowhere to go- "if you want me to, Harry, and come back when it's dark enough. Or we could risk your cape and not tell Dumbledore."

Harry shook his head dully. "No. Please don't go. I've had no one to talk to for weeks. Stay." It wasn't said in a questioning tone; more of an understated plea.

"'Course," Tonks replied. "I was planning to even if you said no." She crossed the room as she had originally intended to do and perched next to Harry on the bed. "But you did have people to talk to, really," she said as an afterthought. "Everyone was willing to talk to you before you left, and when you didn't reply to their owls…"

She trailed off when she realized that Harry was crying. Very, very quietly, almost as if he didn't realize it. Tonks was only half-startled; it was true that Harry didn't impress her as one who cried easily or in front of others; but then again she had been expecting it since her arrival ten minutes ago. He certainly had every right, too.

Instinctively, she put her arm around his shoulder and he leaned into her, no longer fighting her or his grief. She held him as he shivered almost spasmodically, choking like someone who had been under water a very long time and had finally emerged, unsure of whether or not breathing was safe yet.

Harry had always impressed Tonks as someone of pure emotions- not terribly hidden, like, say Remus's, or confused sometimes, like her own. When he was happy, he was only happy; when he was angry he was only angry. And now he wasn't angry, or vengeful, or anything else. He was just… sad.

Tonks was a different story, though. While her mains feelings were those of sympathy and her own grief, there was something else… something unusual and probably inappropriate, but there nonetheless. It took her a minute to realize that, even with puffy, teary eyes and hollowed- out cheeks, Harry was very… attractive. Adorable, was the word she would have used a year ago, but now he seemed older, now he seemed…

Tonks mentally tried to slap herself and failed. _He's too young!_ Part of her protested, while another part reminded her, _he's only seven years younger than you!_ Which, really, wasn't that bad.

He's distraught! The first voice protested, but Tonks wasn't listening to her conscience anymore. She wasn't listening to logic, either.

Harry raised his head, wiping his eyes, and without thinking (a bad habit of hers), Tonks moved her face in closer. To her distant surprise, Harry didn't shy away. He closed his eyes, no longer crying, and suddenly they were kissing.

It only lasted a second or two but Tonks felt like she was floating nonetheless. Floating, which she had always thought never really happened, only in books and tv and such, but now she was indeed, floating. She wondered if Harry was too.

But his face was blank as they pulled away. _Shit,_ Tonks thought, _I am the world's biggest arsehole._

"Harry," she said aloud, "Harry, I am so sorry." But then, to her amasement, harry grinned- a real, happy grin that added back to his face the living quality he seemed to have lost.

"I'm not," he said quietly. His voice, Tonks noted, was still slightly raspy from disuse and crying, but the tone was worlds lighter. "I'm not sorry at all." Then, very simply, he kissed her again.

Nothing had seemed right in the world to either of them since Sirius had died. Tonks knew that it would never be "right" in the sense that it had been before, not ever again. But sitting on Harry's bed, arms around his shoulders and head buried in his hair, things seemed a little… righter.

Thanks to Paula for giving me this idea for a 'drunk' synonym!

Well, there you have it. Tonks/Harry. Pretty fun to write, and as you can see I used it as an opportunity to practice my detailing. Not a ship I plan to begin endorsing any time soon, but I hope you guys enjoyed it.

Peace

Trip


End file.
